A Little Spirit Birdie
by Eliza Ghost
Summary: Shawn claims to have "a vision of being sick" to get the weekend off so he can take Juliet to a new bar. Unfortunately for him, they're fresh off a case involving an elementary school, and Shawn comes down with chickenpox. He really should have listened to Gus about karma. Contains some light H/C, Shules, and solving a case.
1. Working for the Weekend

**A/N: Hello! Just a heads up, this is set around season five, just pre-official Shules. I'd say expect this to be only a few chapters, but every writer knows those are famous last words. We'll see! Hope you enjoy.**

At the sight of the two Psych employees, Detective Lassiter sighed. "What are Spencer and Guster doing here?"

"Probably picking up their check from the Goldman case," Juliet said. "Or maybe they're getting assigned a new case?"

" _We_ haven't even been assigned a new case."

Calling from across the room, Shawn corrected Juliet's previous statement. "I believe you mean the Kindergarten Cop case?" Now with the attention of the two detectives, he sauntered up to Juliet's desk, Gus in tow. "I know, speak of the devil, am I right?" He smirked at Lassiter. "Yes, we were picking up our paycheck, and no, we're not on a new case."

Juliet's eyes widened, while Lassiter's narrowed.

"While Gus has his super sniffer," Shawn explained, casting a glance at his best friend, "I have excellent hearing."

Gus said, "you do not. They were talking at a perfectly normal volume - the station is just extra quiet today."

"No fair, why can't I have a super sense?"

"Are you kidding me? You're a psychic, remember?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I know, but that's a sixth sense. I meant a heightened version of one of the five basic senses."

"Well, we can't pick our gifts, Shawn. Some of us can talk to spirits, and some of us can smell like a bear."

"A bear?"

"They have the best sense of smell of all land animals."

Lassiter cleared his throat, but before he could say anything insulting, Juliet cut him off. "So, is there anything else we can do for you today?" She smiled sweetly.

"Nope," Gus said. "We just came for the paycheck."

"Actually, Gus just came for the paycheck, I came for the paycheck and to ask the chief for the weekend off," said Shawn.

Lassiter didn't even bother to look up from the old file he was pretending to read in an attempt to ignore them. "That's not a problem considering you're not on a case right now, Spencer."

"Ah, yes, Lassie, but I had a _vision_ this morning that we'd get a new case."

Against his better judgement, Lassiter took the bait. "Assuming you do, why do you need the weekend off?"

Shawn shrugged. "A little spirit birdie told me I'd be sick."

Juliet crossed her arms and leaned against her desk. "Uh huh...and this _little spirit birdie_ , that has nothing to do with the barcade opening near Psych Saturday night?"

"No!" Shawn protested, with a fake laugh. "Of course not. But since you brought up - Jules, you wanna go to the barcade with me?"

This earned him a stern look from Gus.

"I thought you were going to be sick Saturday night," Juliet said.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Dare I ask what a 'barcade' is?" He said, putting air quotes around the word.

Shawn pretended to think. "Bar... Arcade..." He held out one hand, then the other, before clapping them together. "Barcade! Duh. It's pretty self explanatory if you ask me."

Juliet added, "It's basically Disneyland for grown ups."

"Uh, _no_ ," Shawn said. "Disneyland is Disneyland for grownups. But the barcade is a wonderful place to revisit all of your childhood favorite arcade games while drinking from an excellent variety of beers."

Lassiter put down the file and started walking back to his office, saying, "Spencer, I think your vision meant to tell that you would be hungover, not sick."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, Lassie!" He waited until the detective was out of view before turning back to Juliet. "So, Jules, what do you say? The tokens are on me."

"Um..." She looked up in thought. "You know what, sure. Sounds fun."

"Great! How does eight o'clock sound to you?"

"Sounds like a date. Unless you're sick of course."

"Of course. Unless that. But you know, the spirits can be hard to read sometimes. Lassie might have been right."

"I'll have to tell him you said that. It'll make his day." She grinned at him, and found herself looking deeply into his eyes until Gus cleared his throat. "I'll see you Saturday. Bye, Gus."

"Goodbye, Juliet, always a pleasure to see you," Gus said before dragging Shawn away and hissing "I thought we were going to the barcade together!"

"Buddy, the barcade isn't going anywhere. You and I will totally go together. This way I'll scope out the best machines for us to play."

"Do you think they'll have Dig Dug?"

"Obviously. Don't sweat it, Gus. I took a shot and it paid off. Can you blame me?"

"No," he sighed. "But a little spirit birdie told _me_ you owe me the first round of drinks when we go."

"Deal."

Gus unlocked the Blueberry and got into the driver's seat. Once Shawn was in the passenger seat, Gus turned on the engine and said, "I'd be careful if I were you."

"I know; Dance Dance Revolution can get pretty dicey after a few drinks, especially since I'm not a master dancer like you. I'll proceed with caution on all non-joystick games, promise."

Gus gave him a look meant to say _really, Shawn?_ "I meant using the spirits as an excuse to play hooky. If you want to keep fooling people, maybe keep the spirits at bay when we're not on a case."

"So I lied about a psychic vision, what else is new? They knew I was just joking about that spirit birdie thing."

"Mmhmm," Gus said, unconvinced. "Just don't come crying to me when karma bites you in the ass."

"Karma swarma," Shawn waved him off. Then he gasped. "Hey! We should pick up some chicken shawarma!"

"Now, that's an idea I can get behind."

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I've only just recently gotten into this show, so I hope I did a good job portraying the characters. Next chapter, we'll have the Shules date and the beginning of sick Shawn. Leave me a review if you enjoyed! Until next chapter, have an excellent week.**


	2. Everybody Have Fun Tonight

It was definitely psychosomatic. Shawn couldn't deny he felt sick, in a sort of nondescript _blah_ _feeling_ way, but it had to be a product of his imagination, or nerves. On the bright side, beer and video games had always proved to be excellent distractions. Walking into the Golden Age barcade with Jules instantly rallied his spirits. The dimmed lights, flashing games, loud chatter, and the smell of alcohol and fried foods was both familiar and exciting. "Wow," Shawn said, scanning the entry room, "this place is awesome. I'm not sure about the name, though. Personally, I would have gone with _Padrinko._ "

Juliet laughed. "I'm going to have to side with Golden Age on this one."

"Are you kidding me? _Padrinko_ is genius."

"Sure, it's...cute."

"Oh, don't tell me you don't get it. Jules, you know about Pachinko, right?"

"No, I don't. I'm guessing it's a game, in which case your name idea makes a lot more sense."

"Yes it is, and thank you for recognizing my sparkling wit."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she wore a smile. She even leaned against him for a fleeting moment before the line started moving again. Soon, they made it to the front, and Shawn took out his wallet. Once they were in, Shawn carried his cupful of tokens over to the bar and paid for their first round of drinks.

"Thank you, Shawn," Juliet said, after picking out a beer. "You're too sweet. That must be, what, a pound of tokens?"

He almost spoke, then dipped his head. "Don't mention it." He looked at his hands, as if suddenly realizing he had occupied them both with cups, one with the tokens and one with beer. "Do you have a favorite game?"

"I've always liked Tetris."

Shawn chuckled.

"I know," Juliet said, "it's so basic."

"No, it's a classic! I just should have guessed you'd like the puzzle game where you have to think ahead to fit all the pieces together. That's very detective-y of you. Come on, let's find it!"

The arcade did indeed have Tetris, and after waiting for a group of frat boys to wrap of their turns, Shawn gave Juliet the first go. He gave her the first three actually - she got very into the game. Shawn didn't get a chance to play, since the girl behind them got too impatient and insisted the couple let someone else go. Juliet blushed, and graciously stepped aside.

"Second place high score, not bad," Shawn said as they searched for another game.

"I want to go back later and try for first. But now it's your turn to pick a game. What to do you like?"

Shawn did a quick mental inventory of they games he'd seen before settling on Pac-Man.

"The game with the ghosts. Funny," Juliet teased, "that's very psychic-y of you."

"I talk to ghosts, I don't run away from them so I can eat fruit and also eat giant orbs that let me eat the ghosts."

Shawn got a round of Pac-Man in, while Juliet took over the Ms. Pac-Man game beside it once the previous player finished. "Oh look," Shawn said, "His and Hers arcade games."

Juliet, however, didn't look over until a moment later. "Sorry, did you say something? It's really loud in here."

"Nah, nothing." His game flashed, and he cheered. "Yes! High score!" He made a mental note to show Gus later, hoping no one would top his score between now and then.

Juliet glanced over. "Congrats! Just let me finish up here, and then let's find a two player game."

Shawn stepped to the side, and watched the Ms. Pac-Man screen as she played. The night was young, but he already felt tired. Sure, he was having an amazing time, but sleeping didn't sound entirely unappealing. It was also very hot in the crowded area, and he was really hoping he didn't smell like sweat on his date. That would be a bummer. He was lost in his thoughts, leaning against an arcade cabinet, when Juliet appeared in front of him.

"What next?" She asked.

"Uh..." He furrowed his eyebrows and looked off into the distance.

Juliet thought he was just thinking, but after a long pause, she gently touched his arm. "Shawn?"

He seemed to snap back into reality. "Sorry, uh, you can pick."

They went through several games across the arcade, Juliet usually winning any multi-players. She wanted to accuse him of letting her win, but he seemed to genuinely struggle to keep up on the last few. she'd thought he was a pro at video games. At least he was better at fighting games than he was in real fights.

After another trip to the bar, Juliet suggested they order some food and sit for a while. Shawn picked up and onion ring and took a bite out of it, then stared at it as he twirled it in his hand.

She examined him as he did so, not that he noticed (which was unusual for Shawn, who usually picked up on everything). "Having fun with that?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice. "What? Yeah, of course I'm having fun, Jules. I have good company, good beer, fried food, what else could I ask for?" He finally ate the rest of his onion ring, then continued, "you're having fun, right?"

"Yes!"

"Good, because I didn't know if you liked games much."

She put her hand on his. "I'm having a great time with you."

His face broke into a grin. "Jules, remember when I said-" His phone vibrated and buzzed on the table. He sighed and entered his password. "Gus wants to know if they have _Dance Dance Revolution_."

"Well, they do." She looked into the plastic cup they'd been carrying around all night. "And we have four tokens left. We should play it so you can give him a thorough review."

"Oh, it's on."

They approached the game, each setting down their beer at the side of the giant screen. Shawn inserted the coins and picked the first eighties song he recognized: Bowie's "Let's Dance". It wasn't a particularly fast song, so in theory it would be easy. He was doing really well and even adding some typical _Shawn flair_ outside of what the game called for - until everything started to sway and the edges of his vision turned to static. Before he had time to act, he felt himself hit the ground. _Okay, so maybe this wasn't psychosomatic then. And maybe he'd overdone it by trying to pretend it was._ This was going to be fun to explain to Juliet.

Speaking of Juliet, now that his vision cleared he could see her and several strangers hovering over him.

"Shawn? What happened?"

Some stranger he couldn't see chimed in with the brilliant suggestion, "ma'am, did your boyfriend drink a little too much?"

She ignored him, although Shawn sort of wanted to hear her response to that. "Shawn? Are you okay?"

Right. _Earth to Shawn._ He was still on the floor. He had to move, and interact with people. "Yeah. You know how _Dance Dance Revolution_ is..."

The bartender announced, "hey, buddy, I'm going to have to cut you off."

"-I told Gus that game is tricky. I should have listened."

Juliet said, "You should have listened...to yourself?"

Some men were helping him up now. Shawn could see that basically everyone in the vicinity was looking, some talking behind cupped hands, some pointing or giggling, but those closest to him looking genuinely concerned. One of the guys who helped him up was mumbling to Juliet, and then there was a hand on his forehead.

"Shawn," she sighed, "I told you we didn't have to do this if you were sick."

The word _sick_ echoed around him, _"he's not drunk, he's sick,"_ and some of the onlookers started to disperse. Shawn supposed a random sick dude wasn't at entertaining as a sloppy drunk.

He said to Juliet, "I was hoping it was in my head."

"But your vision-"

"Yeah, I guess Lassie was wrong and I was right about that. Man, usually that makes me so happy."

"I know it does." She looked at him sympathetically. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"Once again, Gus retains his title as reigning dance champion. At least I have Pac-Man. And my never ending streak of knowing better than Lassie."

Juliet left him in the company of the overly concerned strangers while she ordered a ride and closed out their bar tab, which she insisted she cover the rest of. Once she returned, Shawn was up and combing his hair with his fingers, making sure it hadn't been damaged in the fall. She watched him as the walked outside, grabbing him when he teetered almost imperceptibly, although he broke away from her steadying grasp to open the door for her.

Once settled in the backseat of the Uber car with Juliet, Shawn pulled out his phone and texted Gus back. "Golden Age 7/10, date 9/10, DDR 2/10."

Within seconds, Gus texted back. "Don't blame the game for your lack of dance skills, Shawn." Amused, he read this aloud to Juliet, who asked if he could blame his fever.

Shawn smirked.

"What?"

"I have dance fever, Jules."

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope Shules shippers are happy with this chapter, it was much cutesier than originally planned. But hey, Shawn and Jules are cute together. Next chapter: Gus visits Shawn, and it's revealed to be chickenpox. We're starting to get places, folks. I think next chapter will be a lot of fun. Stay tuned, and please follow and review if you're enjoying!**


	3. Who Can It Be Now?

**A/N: Hello again, friends! I've been looking forward to writing this chapter, since a particular section of dialogue in it was one of the first bits I came up with for this story. Thank you to PrePsychPineappleLover and silverliningineachcloud for your reviews on the previous chapters! I really appreciate it! Side note: every chapter title comes from the name of a different 80's song, so shout out to anyone that listens to the song of each chapter.  
**

* * *

It took Shawn a few seconds to realize the sound that had just woken him up was knocking, which meant that he had to ignore the overwhelming urge to go back to sleep and actually get up. Like, _now_. Whoever was waiting for him at the door was very persistent, not to mention loud. That was doing no favors for his headache. Nevertheless, he stumbled out of bed half-awake towards the front door.

He was not surprised to see Gus behind the door. He was, however, pretty surprised when Gus decided to forgo a typical greeting in lieu of a high pitched scream. Startled, Shawn screamed back. "Why are we screaming?!"

"What happened to your face?"

"What happened to _your_ face?" Not his cleverest comeback, but in his defense, he had no idea what Gus was talking about.

"Shawn-" Gus sighed. "Just go look in a mirror."

Confused and slightly weary, Shawn headed towards the closest mirror. Gus followed closely behind. When he saw himself, he understood why Gus was caught off guard when he opened the door. Red bumps were scattered across his face, with the left side hit especially hard. "Nooooo," Shawn whined, "I look like the Phantom of the Opera, but with zits instead of..." He gestured around his face.

"Burn marks."

"Burn marks, thank you, Gus. At least my hair is still perfect."

Shawn's phone rang then, the screen displaying that Juliet was calling and he had five missed texts. And that it was almost one in the afternoon. He picked it up, eyeing Gus all the while. "Hey, Jules."

"Hi, Shawn," she answered. "I hope I'm not bothering you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after last night."

"Are you kidding? It's always a pleasure to hear from you."

"Are you feeling any better? Because if you need anything, I'm about to go on lunch break-"

"You know what, Gus is here, so I think we've got things covered. You know him and his medicinal wizardry. Gus, say hi."

He held out the phone to his best friend, who replied with a mechanical "hi, Juliet."

"So anyways," Shawn continued into the phone, "I'm actually feeling a lot better, so don't feel like you have to come by and see me or anything..." He looked at himself again in the mirror.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you're better! Call me if you need anything."

"Will do. Bye." He hung up and went through his unread texts, idly scratching his face as he scrolled. There was one from Juliet, sent after she'd left his place last night. She'd stayed until he'd fallen asleep (which, granted, only took a few minutes), and wanted to let him know that she'd gotten home safely and would check on him in the morning. One from Juliet this morning asking how he was. One from Gus, in response to Shawn's hilarious dance fever text, asking if he seriously had a fever. One from Gus about the irony of his bullshit vision coming true. One from Gus playing pharmaceutical rep and telling him all the things he should take.

Speaking of Gus, he was staring at Shawn with crossed arms.

"What?" Shawn asked, feigning innocence.

"Why did you tell Juliet you're better when you're clearly-"

"Suffering from bubonic plague, which is very unflattering, and which Juliet would have been witness to if she'd stopped by?"

"I was just going to say worse."

Shawn sat on his bed and picked up a thermometer from his bedside table. _Funny, he didn't remember putting it there last night._ He stuck it in his mouth, ignoring Gus's advice of putting a new plastic cover on it, and laid back. It felt so much better lying down, and he was still so tired that he was almost asleep when the thermometer beeped. He opened his eyes and checked the results, reading it to Gus. "Hundred degrees."

"What was it last night?"

"Last night?"

"Yes, Shawn."

"Dunno, buddy," he mumbled, already curling back into bed.

"Shawn?"

"Mmm." It would be a lot easier to sleep if his face didn't itch so much.

"You should make an appointment with your doctor before you fall back asleep."

"Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure you have chickenpox."

Shawn sat up, giggling. "Buddy, there's no way I have chickenpox."

"There was a breakout at the elementary school when we were working the Kindergarten Cop case."

"I know, but I figured I was old enough I wouldn't catch it."

"Did you have it when you were a child?"

"Of course!" His confidence faltered, though. "Maybe. I don't remember."

"If you don't remember, you probably didn't."

"I am but a humble man, Gus. I forgot everything about my infancy just like every other kid on the planet."

"Okay, then call your dad. _Then_ call your doctor."

"You seriously think I'm going to call my dad?"

"Do you want me to call him for you?"

"I really don't."

Gus handed him his phone.

"You're surprisingly calm around my germs," Shawn observed.

"Yeah, well I had chickenpox. I'm immune."

"Bragger," he said, dialing. He sighed dramatically, wishing Gus would let him out of this. He'd never hear the end of this from his dad, he was sure of it.

"Shawn?" his Dad said. "Something wrong?"

"No," Shawn lied. "I just have a quick question for you." He put his dad on speakerphone so Gus would be able to hear his theory get shot down in real time.

Henry asked, "alright, what is it?"

"Did I ever have chickenpox?"

There was a short pause. "I don't think so, kid."

"Oh, come on," Shawn groaned.

Gus raised an eyebrow. "See, Shawn?"

Shawn tried to cover his phone speaker, whispering, "If you tell me 'I told you so' again-"

"I'm going to ask you again," his dad's voice interrupted him. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"I heard Gus in the background. Put him on."

Shawn rolled his eyes and handed his phone to Gus, who predictably caved in an instant. He turned off speaker phone and told Henry everything, from last night to now.

Two hours later he was at the doctor's. Five minutes after that, the doctor sided with Gus's diagnosis. Shawn wasn't feeling up to playing the lighthearted smart mouth at the moment, so he wiped the sweat from his brow and quietly looked at all of the things in the cramped room while Gus took notes on what the doctor said. Luckily, because the diagnosis was so easy, the appointment was over quickly. "Do you have any questions, Shawn?" The doctor (who Shawn thought looked alarmingly like Patrick Dempsey) asked.

"Yeah." He turned to Gus. "Can we get pineapple smoothies?"

* * *

Gus had run inside the store to pick up two smoothies, leaving Shawn alone in the car. Since he felt like doing something mindless, he was playing a matching pairs memory game _and totally crushing it_. But alas, his phone just had to ring. He was utterly tired of phone calls and was going to ignore it until he saw who it was from.

"Afternoon, Chief Vick, what can I do you for?"

"I know you asked for today off, but if you want a case, I have one that's right up your alley."

"Aw, I wish I could, Chief, but I'm sick." He fake-coughed for emphasis. Of course, this only made it sound like he wasn't sick at all and was simply pretending. Through the window, he could see Gus approaching the Blueberry with the drinks.

"Yes, Detective O'Hara told me you weren't feeling well yesterday. She also told me you were better today." He could tell from her tone that she knew something was up.

"Oh, well...see, it's a funny story."

Gus was opening the car door now.

"What's so funny about it, Mr. Spencer?"

Gus put his smoothie in his drink holder and held the other one out for Shawn. "Who are you talking to?"

Shawn looked at Gus, saying into the phone, "pardon me for a minute, Chief, Gus just walked in."

Gus said, "what does the Chief want?"

"She has a new case for us. Which, if you'll remember, was the other part of the vision I told Lassie."

"Uncanny. Did you tell her you can't take it?"

"We were getting around to that."

"Shawn..."

"Honestly!" He took a sip of his smoothie. "But I haven't heard about the case yet. It might be cool. She says it's 'right up my alley.'"

"You have a contagious disease, Shawn."

"Yeah, but it might be _cool_ , Gus! Besides, I feel fine."

"For five whole minutes on the way here you were complaining that you were dying of the plague. You started reciting a farewell speech."

"I was joking."

"Just like you were 'joking' about your last vision? Give me the phone."

Shawn made a display of unhappiness, but told the Chief that Gus wanted to talk to her and passed off his phone. "At this rate you might as well answer all of my calls for me. Like a secretary. Ooh! I wonder when Secretary Appreciation Day is."

"Shawn, shh."

Shawn slumped back in his seat, listening to Gus' side of the conversation.

"Hello, Chief Vick. How are you? I'm well, thank you. Uh huh. Oh no, he actually is. He may have...downplayed things for Juliet this morning. Sure. ...That does sound interesting. I don't know though." He looked over at Shawn, who was scratching his at face like it was a lotto ticket. Gus lightly slapped him to make him cut it out. "Enough. We just came from the doctor's. He's very contagious - but probably not to anyone over the age of eight. Chickenpox. I know. Yes, ma'am. Alright, thank you." He hung up and handed the phone back.

"So?"

"You were right." Gus smirked. "It is a cool case."

* * *

 **A/N: What did you think? Will Gus let Shawn take the case? spoiler alert, Lassie and Juliet will both make appearances next chapter. Maybe even Henry - if not in this next one, he'll show up soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please follow, favorite, or review! Until next time, have a wonderful week.**


	4. We're Not Gonna Take It

**A/N: Thank you PrePsychPineappleLover and Rock Mint Swirl for your reviews last chapter!**

Of course, Shawn wanted to hear what the chief said about the potential case. It was a shame he was sick, because it really was a perfect case for them. But, he was, so instead of filling Shawn in on the details, Gus looked ahead and drank his smoothie.

"Oh, come on," Shawn protested. "Don't be a seven year old calendar left hung up for the pictures."

Gus weighed his options. Either he didn't explain the case and Shawn would nag him forever to spill, or he did explain it and Shawn would nag him forever to let him take it. The third option, and by far the worst, was to give in and accept the case. Being a good friend and reasonable human, Gus immediately ruled this option out.

"Gus."

And so it started.

"Gus. Gus. Guster comma B. The Gus man. G-force."

"Shawn. Two can play at this game."

"Then game on, Gus. Or should I say...frozen gustard?"

Gus kept driving, saying nothing.

"No Gus, no glory," said Shawn. "I could do this all day."

Gus didn't doubt it. Shawn was a man of many talents, and being annoying was one of them.

"Aspara _gus_?"

Nothing.

"Please?"

Gus cracked, saying, "the case could still be open by the time you feel better. Chief Vick said it may not even be a real case."

Shawn eyed Gus suspiciously. "But she's offering it to us?"

"Well, _Lassiter_ doesn't think it's a real case. She's not sure."

"Of course Lassie doesn't." Suddenly, he perked up and reached for his phone, saying "but if Lassie's on the case, that means Juliet is too."

If Gus hadn't been driving he would have texted Juliet telling her not to answer Shawn. Alas, he was driving, so all he could do was sigh and listen as Shawn called her.

"Hey, Jules! Listen, the Chief just offered us a case and I was hoping-" He stopped abruptly and his smirk faded. "Man, word travels fast. Yes..." Shawn lowered his voice for the rest of the conversation, but from what Gus could gather, Chief Vick must have already updated the detectives. Soon Shawn was navigating the waters of explaining why he'd lied to Juliet that morning. Gus pretended not to listen to this part.

"Gus doesn't think so either," Shawn said eventually. "I'm fine... In my defense, Jules, Dance Dance Revolution can get very intense." Shawn drank his smoothie while he listened to Juliet talk. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Yep. Bye." He hung up and looked at Gus. "So Juliet thinks we should take the case and you should tell me about it while we drive to the crime scene."

"She did not say that."

"No, but it was worth a shot." He reached over and turned the air conditioning up. "Fine, so we won't take the case. Will you at least tell me what's so cool about it?"

Gus hesitated, then, against his better judgement, gave it. "The victim is a forty one year old woman. Hairdresser. All signs so far point to a heart attack."

"Little young for a heart attack. But I'm-" Shawn said, put his hand to his head, "-sensing there's more."

Gus rolled his eyes at Shawn's (unnecessary) signature psychic move. "Yeah, just one little thing. Recently she visited a psychic who told her she was going to die."

"Let me drink more smoothie so I can do a spit take! Gus, that's amazing!"

"Don't you dare do a spit take in my company car just for emphasis."

"I really think it needs emphasis."

"If you must do a spit take, do it out the window."

"I'll spare the left lane. But dude, seriously, how cool is that?"

"A woman is dead, Shawn."

"And may she rest in peace...with our help."

"Nice try."

"Admit it, you're interested in this case too."

"We don't know if it even is a case."

"Oh, come on, a forty one year old woman dies of a heart attack? After a psychic tells her she's going to die? That's got to be murder. No self respecting psychic would tell a client that they're going to die."

"Oh, and you would know."

"Well, have you ever seen tarot readers? They flip their silly little cards and leave everything up to interpretation. That's their whole thing, because anything can come true if it's vague enough. But directly telling someone they're going to die? The psychic's probably the one who did it, or they were paid by the person who did."

"Chief said there were no external injuries to support a murder theory."

"Duh, poison! The killer obviously wanted to make it look like a natural death. The psychic reading was added in so no one would question why a relatively young, healthy woman is now counting worms. But the question is who, and why. And how?"

"Questions."

"What?"

"You said question, singular, and then gave three questions. So you should have said 'the remaining questions are-'"

"The remaining questions are, do you think there's a case here or not?"

Gus glanced at Shawn. "Really, Shawn? That's one question."

"Okay, buddy, I think now that we're done with the undercover school case, we can put the grammar lessons aside."

"Maybe if you hadn't been so eager to go undercover on that case, we could take this one."

"I couldn't turn down a chance to give an assembly - wait. You _do_ want to take this case."

"Do I wish we could? Yes. Can we? No."

Gus parked the car outside Shawn's place, and the two headed inside with their smoothies. Shawn immediately laid down face first on the couch, leaving no room for Gus. Instead, he pulled up a chair and caught up on some paperwork while Shawn pretended he wasn't falling asleep. Eventually, Gus finished his work, Shawn woke up, and they found themselves getting very caught up in a docu-series about baby animals. This episode was about an orphaned baby deer that was rescued and reared by humans.

"Are you crying?" Shawn asked Gus.

Gus wiped tears from his eyes saying, "it's like Bambi all over again, but it's worse because it's real!"

"Yeah, but this mom didn't even die, she just rejected the baby."

"I won't apologize for my feelings, Shawn."

There was a knock at the door then. Normally, Shawn would play the sick card and have Gus get up to answer it, but somehow Gus was less put together than even he was right now. So, he let Gus have a good cry over the fawn, and answered the door. Juliet had promised during their last phone call that she'd stop by, so he wasn't surprised to see her when he answered the door. He hadn't warned Gus, though, who was now in a hurry to recompose himself.

"Hey, Jules," Shawn greeted her. In the background, Gus was sniffling, so he added, "don't mind Gus, he's just reliving childhood trauma."

Juliet covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, Shawn..." she said. "I still wish you wouldn't have lied to me, but now I can see why you didn't want me to come over."

Still on the sofa, Gus mumbled "sort of a Beauty and the Beast situation."

"You have Disney on the brain," Shawn replied. Then, he walked over to Gus and leaned in to ask, "is my hair still good?"

Gus narrowed his eyes and opened and closed his mouth.

"Tell me, Gus, I can take it."

"You can't handle the truth."

"That bad? Oh, say it ain't so, pal."

"It's a little sweaty."

"A little?" Shawn asked.

"Okay, very," Gus said. "I mean, you left a sweat stain on the sofa."

"It's hot in here."

"Because you have a fever."

"Details." Shawn brushed him off.

From across the room, Juliet cleared her throat. "Um, guys?"

Gus stood up. "I'm sorry, I haven't even said hi to you. I was just a little caught up in this...gritty nature documentary," he said, glancing at the television.

Shawn smirked that.

"I can see that," Juliet said. "So, anyways Shawn, I brought you some things." She raised the canvas bag she was holding. "Just some soup, calamine, and oatmeal."

"Thanks, Jules." He took the bag and left for the kitchen.

With Shawn safely out of earshot, Juliet asked Gus for a recap of their day, and both agreed again that there was no way Shawn should work (no matter how fitting the case). Juliet added that for once, Lassiter wasn't so against Shawn joining them, although she suspected he just wanted to see Shawn with chickenpox for himself. He seemed amused when he'd heard, citing the irony of the most childish person he knew picking up a childhood illness.

Shawn wandered back in carrying a small bowl of soup and settled on the couch again. "You can sit, if you want. Although, if I'm contagious to you, you might not want to."

"Nope," Juliet said, "I caught chickenpox from Ewan when I was three."

"I'm surprised that guy can even get sick," Shawn said.

"He was only a little kid," she said, then changed the subject. "So how are you feeling?"

Shawn shrugged. "I was shot, so I've been worse."

"Right." Juliet looked down.

He asked, "how was work today?"

Juliet looked at Gus before answering. "Good."

"Just good?" Shawn looked at the other two suspiciously.

"Uh huh. Well, I should get going. I have an early morning tomorrow, and besides, you should rest."

"Okay. Well, thanks for the stuff."

"You're welcome. Night, guys."

The boys said goodbye back to her as she let herself out. As soon as she was gone, Shawn said "you two think I'm still hung up on the case, don't you?"

"You know that's right."

They finished watching their nature documentary, and then Gus packed up and headed home, making a promised phone call as soon as he got there.

* * *

Shawn wasn't expecting a visitor the next morning, but as soon as he answered the door, he knew exactly why his visitor was there.

"Geez, kid," Henry said, "you look rough."

Well, Shawn's day just got worse.

 **A/N: And there we have it! Don't worry, we will get to see the case play out, whether or not Shawn inserts himself into it. It's loosely inspired by two Monk episodes, because my knowledge of homicide mostly comes from procedural crimes shows. In hope that ending wasn't too awkward, I just wanted to give you a preview of what the next chapter holds. Spoiler alert: a sicker Shawn. Forget gloomy Gus. It's gloomy Shawn time. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and please review! I also appreciate those of you who have followed and favorited so far. I hope you're enjoying the ride.**


	5. Blue Monday

**A/N: Hello! Sorry there was a bit of of a wait for this chapter. To make up for it, it's extra long (well, that and I got a bit carried away while writing.) Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Gus told him over the phone that it looked bad, but it was even worse then Henry expected. His son's face and arms, covered as they were in red bumps and scratches, looked like a game of connect the dots gone horribly wrong. "Geez, kid, you look rough," Henry said.

"Hello to you too, Dad."

Henry sighed. "Sorry. Hi, Shawn. How are you doing?"

Rather than answering, Shawn laughed humorlessly. Then, he said, "let me take a wild guess; Gus hired you to babysit me so I wouldn't sneak out to the crime scene?"

"Something like that," Henry said.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, so you can check this off your list and get back to you day. Thanks for the visit."

Shawn started to close the door, but Henry stuck his foot in. "I brought soup."

After a brief pause, Shawn opened the door again. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?" Henry followed his son into the apartment and headed straight to the kitchen.

"Jules beat you to the soup idea sometime yesterday. Probably around six."

"And when was the last time you took a shower?" Based on the sweat-soaked shirt, Henry guessed it had been a while.

"Uh..." Shawn collapsed into a chair while his father searched for a pot. "I think it was five AM -ish."

"Why were you awake at five AM?" Shawn habitually slept in until the last possible minute (usually he'd still be asleep this time of day if he could help it) so hearing he'd been up that early was mildly alarming.

"If you think that's bad, you better hold onto your hat."

Henry placed the pot on the stove top and furrowed his brows at Shawn. "What else is there?"

"I woke up at one AM."

"Why?"

"Just for fun. You know, to get myself hyped bright and...well, _dark_ and early for the sunrise."

" _Shawn._ "

"I slept basically all day yesterday and accidentally made myself nocturnal," he explained. "I gave up on falling back asleep after a few hours, and by the time my fever broke, I was covered in gross fever sweat, so I figured I might as well shower while I had the energy."

Henry checked his watch. "You've been awake for nine hours already?"

"No, I conked out after the shower. Now I'm running on a two hour power nap." He reached for a coffee mug reading _world's best psychic_ and held it aloft, adding, "l'chaim."

"You should have kept sleeping," Henry said.

"Gee, Dad, what a good idea. If only I had thought of it," Shawn snarked before finishing what was left of his coffee.

It was hard not to roll his eyes. As much as he wanted to, Henry couldn't blame the kid for being snippy. He decided to leave him be, opting to stir the soup in silence. When it was ready, he poured a bowl for each of them and went to the fridge for drinks. He was hoping for any kind of juice, but instead found half a six-pack, a carton of milk, some energy drinks (the last thing Shawn would ever need), and a Yoo-Hoo. _Water it was, then._

While Henry poured himself a glass, Shawn stood up and shuffled to the coffee maker, where he started another pot. As he waited, he scratched at his chest and face.

"Leave it alone or you'll get scars," Henry warned.

"You're on a roll today with the advice I already know."

This time, Henry did roll his eyes. "Alright, Shawn."

He watched as Shawn poured himself a coffee and returned to the table, halfheartedly attempting to eat the soup. He said nothing all the while. While Henry often wished his son would talk less, it was unsettling when he actually was quiet. The silence was awkward, so he asked "have you been thinking about the case?"

"No, I've been a little distracted trying not to jump out of my skin." Shawn took a sip from his mug and peered at his father. "Why, did Gus tell you something I don't know?"

"No," Henry said. "But from what he did tell me, I actually think it's good you can't work this one."

An amused look crossed Shawn's face. "Oh, do tell."

"Obviously this psychic woman is a fake, but it would be hard for you to explain why you don't believe her without implicating yourself."

"Do you doubt my psychic abilities?" Shawn asked, smirking. "Listen, Dad, I've proven harder cases without blowing my cover. I'm pretty sure I can manage to show that this lady's a fake without saying all psychics are. In fact, I bet me being a psychic would make it even easier. Lassie will say she's not legit, I'll say 'you don't know that, let's give her a chance,' and then first clue I get that she's a scammer, I suddenly have a vision telling me that she's a fake. Presto, fraud-o."

"Obviously she's a scammer."

Shawn placed a hand over his heart. "You know, that's very offensive to my people."

"Oh, knock it off," Henry said.

Shawn laughed, then continued, "all I have to do is figure out how much she knew about the murder plot. She might be essentially innocent in all this, in which case I wouldn't have to prove if she's real or not."

"You mean, that's all you would have to do if you were working this one."

"Right..."

Henry grunted. He shouldn't have given Shawn any ideas. "Eat your soup, kid."

"I'm done."

"You hardly touched it."

"I told you I wasn't hungry," Shawn said. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind both his father and his unfinished coffee.

Henry took his time finishing his own soup before going in search of Shawn. He hoped the kid would be asleep, but he found him very much awake and watching an old western in the living room. Shawn had donned a sweatshirt since leaving the kitchen, but had pulled up the sleeves to itch his arms. When he noticed his dad watching him, he said "chickenpox are dumb."

Henry chuckled at that. "Can I get you anything, son?"

Shawn glanced at him, then cast his gaze to the floor. "No..."

"How about a blanket?"

"...Yes," he mumbled.

"I thought so," said Henry.

After he left the room, Shawn called out after him, "the fleece one in my closet!"

Reentering the living room, Henry said "heads up," before tossing the blanket to Shawn, who wasted no time in turning it into a cocoon.

Despite the added layer, it wasn't long before he was visibly shivering. Henry watched him, but said held his tongue. He tried in vain to focus instead on reading the book he'd brought from home, but it wasn't easy. Soon he heard a noise that he realized was Shawn's teeth chattering, and that's when Shawn caught him staring. Henry opened his mouth to comment, but before he could, Shawn announced that he was going to bed and left.

* * *

Shawn wasn't sure what woke him up, the cold or the voices. His first instinct in either case was to pull the comforter over his head. _Nope, still not warm enough. Or quiet enough._ One voice belonged to his father, which was no surprise, and it was easy to identify the second as belonging to his best friend. That wasn't surprising either, but it did mean it was late enough that Gus was off work, leading Shawn to wonder what time it was, or even what day. He grabbed one of the many blankets he'd stockpiled on his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, forcing himself to get out of bed and over to the doorway to eavesdrop.

"It's out of the question," he heard his dad say.

"Believe me," Gus replied, "I'm on your side, but she did specifically request to speak to Shawn-"

"There's no way. Have you seen him? That's ridiculous." Then, his dad's voice lowered, making it harder to hear. "Besides-"

Shawn leaned into the door, and promptly found himself on the ground outside his room. _Dang it, he should have checked to make sure the door was closed all the way._

"Shawn?" Gus said. Both he and Shawn's dad were staring at him with a mixture of concern and surprise. So much for a smooth entrance.

Shawn tried to play it off, saying, "besides what, Dad?" but his dad was too preoccupied rushing to help him up to answer. Or maybe he was only pretending he hadn't heard. Next thing Shawn knew, he'd been guided to the sofa.

His dad crouched down in front of him. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"I'm fine." He smiled. "My bricks just feel like a ton of legs."

His dad's face scrunched up. "What?"

"Shawn," Gus said, "did you just hear yourself?"

He was pretty sure he'd made a simple statement. "What did I say?"

"You just said your _bricks_ feel like a ton of _legs_."

That brought to mind an image of bricks walking around with human legs wearing high heels. Shawn giggled at the thought.

Henry gestured to Shawn. "Point in case."

"What's happening?" Shawn asked, not sure what his dad was talking about.

Gus sighed. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

"Liar."

"Shawn," his dad huffed.

Gus said, "how much did you hear?"

"Not a lot before falling through the door to be honest with you."

"Good," his dad said. "It wasn't important."

Well, that was confusing. If it wasn't important, why would his dad care how much he heard? "Okay... Whatever you say, Dad."

Gus excused himself and returned a moment later with a cup of ice water, which he handed to Shawn while babbling about the importance of hydration while sick. He accepted the drink and took a long sip, noticing that his dad was watching him. Again. It was starting to get creepy.

"Look at his hands" Henry murmured to Gus, as Shawn drank with shaking hands, managing to spill an unwelcome amount of the freezing water down his shirt front.

"I drank a lot of coffee," Shawn said loudly, interrupting their not-so-covert huddle.

His dad turned back to him. "Yeah, hours ago, Shawn."

Sitting up was starting to feel like a lot of effort, and besides, he was growing tired of this conversation, so Shawn laid down and pulled his blanket over his face. Once again, it failed to block out noise. Though muffled, he could make out his dad's voice. _"What did I tell you?"_

Suddenly, his precious blanket was ripped away from him. "Hey!" Before he even had time to see who'd stolen the blanket, a hand was on his forehead.

His dad cursed under his breath. "Do you have a thermometer, son?"

Shawn said, "yeah," and reached for the blanket, wrapping it once more around his shoulders.

Gus scoffed. "I'll get it. Assuming he hasn't touched it since last time I was here, it should be in his room."

"Thank you, Gus," Henry said, then gestured toward the blanket. "I don't think you need that."

"Shows what you know," Shawn said, "I'm freezing."

"I know you _feel_ cold, but you're not."

"Didn't you just observe me douse myself in ice water?"

"I think 'douse' is a bit of an overstatement. How do you feel?"

"Cold."

His dad rolled his eyes. "Besides that."

"Like jello if jello could feel pain."

That earned him a very confused look from Dad.

Gus came back with the thermometer, and Shawn stuck it in his mouth, asking "so who wants to speak to me?"

"It's not like a cigarette, Shawn, you can't talk with it in your mouth," Gus chastised.

 _Just another excuse to dodge the question._ Shawn groaned so that they'd know he was annoyed by this, but decided to shut up. He didn't like how the two men were just staring at him in silence, so he pointed at the television and made a whining sound. Gus turned it on and flipped through channels until Shawn gave him a thumbs up. When the thermometer beeped, Shawn took and out and asked again, "who asked to talk to me?"

His dad crossed his arms. "What does it say?"

Shawn held the thermometer behind his back. "I'll tell you if you tell me who asked."

"Nice try." His dad reached behind him and easily snatched the thermometer from him. However, he sighed as soon as he looked as it. "I accidentally erased it. Do it again. And this time don't be a little kid about it." Henry then excused himself to go to the bathroom, and told Gus to keep an eye on his son.

As much as he resented what his dad said, Shawn did as he was told, and Gus decided to take this opportunity to speak. "Do you think you can be any help on a case right now?"

Shawn shook his head. He wasn't an idiot after all, no matter how much he might behave like one at times.

"Alright." Gus looked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear, then revealed that the tarot card reader had been asked to make a statement at the police station today and requested to speak to Shawn, who she'd seen in interviews. "But the detectives will just have to tell her you're unavailable and make her talk themselves."

Shawn really did want to start hypothesizing about that, but didn't have the energy to. He'd think about it later.

Gus interrupted his thoughts. "Shawn."

"Hmm?"

"It's beeping."

"Hmm!" He plucked the thermometer from his mouth and looked at the tiny screen. "Oh." He held it out so Gus could read it, just as his dad walked back in. "That's bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Gus turned to Henry and said, "it's a hundred and two point six."

His dad winced. "Jesus, Shawn."

Feeling scrutinized, Shawn pointed to Gus to get the attention off himself. "Gus told me about the tarot card reader!"

"What?" Gus did a double take. "Why would you tell him that?"

Shawn shrugged.

"That's not important right now," his dad said, handing him the glass of water. "Drink that, and we'll retest it in half an hour. Hopefully it'll go down soon."

It occurred to him that his dad and best friend didn't both have to be here. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd be fine if neither of them was, but there was a fat chance he'd convince them to leave now. Instead, he accepted the glass with still-trembling hands and chugged like he was a college kid in a drinking competition. He figured complacency would get them to leave him alone, at least temporarily. It was a tactic he didn't often use with anyone, but he knew in this case listening was probably the best thing for him.

Thinking back to his metaphor from earlier and now his fever, he said aloud to himself, "I guess you do have to boil jello."

"What are you talking about?" Gus said.

"Jello," Shawn answered as he once again laid down with an ungracious _thump_.

Henry took a seat and picked up his book. He opened it to where he left off and said, "just call up the station and put Shawn on the phone. They'll get the picture pretty quick." He snorted. "Can you imagine?"

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter we'll pick up with Lassiter and Juliet, because I can't be the only one who misses them. Thank you for reading, and please favorite, follow, or review if you're enjoying! Until next time!**


	6. Private Eyes

**A/N: Thank you to Rock Mint Swirl and RhymingRobin for your reviews on chapter 5! Secondly, sorry I disappeared for so long. I won't bore you with excuses, but the important thing is I'm back and back in the groove of writing this with more planned! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

"Do you think it's suspicious?"

Detective Lassiter glanced at his partner. "I think all self-proclaimed psychics are suspicious."

Juliet frowned. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he said. "But I see your point." Their so-called psychic (not Spencer, the psychic advisor to the recently deceased hairdresser Abby Calvin) had lawyered up early so to speak; by asking to speak to Spencer right off the bat she made it seem like she had something to hide. They'd mostly wanted her statement as the last person to see Ms. Calvin alive, and up until that point Lassiter wasn't seriously considering foul play. They'd tried to pry, and, after some coaxing, the woman insisted she didn't know anything. According to Ember Sweetwater (the name alone was enough to illegitimize her credibility to Lassiter), she'd just had a normal reading with Abby, and was surprised as anyone that her prediction had come to fruition so soon after the reading. Yet, she kept asking for Spencer, insisting that although she had no part of the death, he would understand her better than the detectives could.

"I think Shawn may have been right," Juliet mused, recalling the theories and visions Gus had relayed to her about Abby Calvin being poisoned.

Detective Lassiter sighed. "Maybe." Even when Spencer was out of commission he was still in Lassiter's hair. Great. "Have you talked to him recently?"

"Why, are you worried about him?" Juliet teased.

"Of course not." If anything, he was amused by the particular predicament. But Juliet hadn't appreciated the last time he said that. "It's almost a shame, really. Spencer might have a better chance at cracking this nut than we do."

"Excuse me, who are you and what have you done with my partner? Since when do you think Shawn is useful?"

"Well, if this woman wants to talk psychic babble with him, he'd save us the time. I have better things to do than listen to another person who claims to be in touch with the spirit world." Hell, if she didn't know what Spencer looked like, they could have any schmuck pose as him. It didn't take another psychic to spot a fradulant one (which, of course, Lassiter still thought they all were). The woman just needed a confidant. "If it was murder," he mused aloud, "we must be dealing with someone good."

"Good enough to cover up a murder in plain sight and make it look like a heart attack."

"Exactly."

Juliet's phone beeped then. She pulled it out to read the message, and smiled fondly.

"That Spencer?"

"He says he's bored. 'Please come rescue me. I'm being held hostage.'"

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "I don't envy his captors."

* * *

"Gus, please," Shawn said, drawing out the second word.

"No, Shawn."

He whipped out his phone. "I'm texting Juliet. This is going to be a matter for the police, because you are holding me hostage."

"I don't think refusing to take you out for doughnuts and coffee counts as holding you hostage."

Shawn thought that maybe he should downgrade from 'hostage situation' to 'cabin fever,' but that didn't sound as compelling, and where was the fun in an unexaggerated argument? So instead, he kept up with the legal theme, yelling "objection!"

"You know," Gus said, "I could just go."

"Yes, let's _both_ go to Dunkin Doughnuts."

"That's not what I meant."

"Spare me, please. You're my only hope, buddy. I've been holed up here for like a week."

"You know that isn't right."

Okay, so it had been only a day or two, but again, not as compelling.

Shawn stood up and wandered towards the kitchen window, making a point to stare dreamily at the outside world for Gus's benefit. "I suppose I could just...drive my motorcycle to Dunkin Doughnuts." He turned away from the window to cough into his sleeve.

"You're way too sick to drive a motorcycle."

Shawn didn't remember all of last night, but from what his dad told him early this morning, it had been a long few hours while his fever made him borderline delirious ("although with you, it's hard to tell," his dad had said.) However, he was feeling well enough now that he wanted a reprieve from his small apartment. "That's a risk I'm willing to take," he said, looking back dramatically at Gus and then turning again to the window, "for maple doughnuts..."

Gus sighed. "I told you I'd take you for drive through. I just don't want Dunkin Doughnuts because I had them yesterday."

"And I'm still hurt that you didn't bring any for me." He sat at the kitchen table and made a mental list of other acceptable dining establishments. "I will accept Krispy Kreme."

"And I will accept your acceptance."

The boys threw on their jackets and headed for the Blueberry. There was a long line at the drive through, and it took Shawn very little time to recognize the car in front of them. Of course, he always was one for noticing details.

"That's Buzz's car! We should honk at him."

"Why?"

"To say hi!"

"If someone behind me at the drivethrough honks at me, I don't think it's someone saying hi. I think it's someone getting mad that my order is taking too long."

Shawn leaned across him and honked anyways.

Buzz looked at their car through his rearview mirror, then, realizing who it was, waved enthusiatically.

"I told you!" Shawn said.

Buzz parked his car after picking up his coffee, which Gus took as a cue to park next to him after he and Shawn had their orders. the detective smiled widely at Gus as he pulled in next to him, then his face changed as he saw Shawn, who was scratching at his pale and spotted face. Buzz rolled down his windows and shifted to his passenger side seat to be closer to Gus. "Oh wow, Shawn, you don't look so great."

Shawn tilted his head. "People keep saying that to me; I'm starting to wonder if something's wrong."

Buzz looked between Shawn and Gus. "I..."

"I'm just kidding, Buzz."

"Right. Ha ha. Anyways." Buzz glanced down. "How are you doing? Can I do anything for you?"

"That's nice, but I think I've got it covered. Between my dad and Jules, I've got enough soup to fill a moat."

Buzz chuckled earnestly this time. "Well, alright then. Hey, it was good to see you guys-"

"Buzz, wait!" Shawn leaned across the driver's side to get closer to the detective. "How are things going at work?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "Let it go, Shawn." He started rolling up the window, saying goodbye to Buzz.

"Actually!"

Gus rolled the window back down. "What is it?"

"I probably shouldn't be saying this, since you're not officially on the case, but we're starting to think you were right about Miss Ember Sweetwater."

Gus said, "who?"

"The psychic!" Shawn said, figuring that kind of name had to be fake.

"Yes! Anyways, we brought her in for basic questioning, not even as a suspect, and she wanted to lawyer up right away. Well, not lawyer up, I mean, she did want a lawyer, but first she wanted to talk to-"

" _Shawn,_ " Gus said.

"That's right."

Shawn's ringtone interrupted the conversation. "Shawn Spencer speaking, psychic extraordinaire." He looked over at Gus and smirked, happy with his own line. "I had a feeling you would call. Yes, that's true. In that case, of course. We can be there in fifteen minutes." He hung up and said to Buzz and Gus, "who would have guessed, Lightening Bolt Pond just called."

"You mean Ember Sweetwater?" Buzz asked.

Gus said, "we'll be _where_ in fifteen minutes?"

"Psych. She's already there."

Gus glared at Shawn in disapproval, while Buzz knit his eyebrows together in concern.

Shawn bit into his doughnut before saying, "so we should probably get a move on."

" _If_ you talk to her," Buzz said, "you should call us after and tell us what sort of read you got from her."

"We're not talking to anybody," said Gus. "Shawn, call her back."

Buzz said, "gosh, I wonder why she wants to talk to Shawn so badly."

"Maybe she looks up to me as a fellow psychic," Shawn said. Then, he raised his hand to his head and squinted.

"What is it? A vision?" Buzz asked, eyes wide with curioisity.

"No, a headache." Shawn peered over at his best friend. "Maybe I should call her back."

"You know that's right."

Buzz gave them a small smile. "I'll leave you guys to it. Good seeing you both," he said, and then, as he rolled up his window, "hope you feel better soon, Shawn!"

Shawn and Gus waved at him, and Gus rolled his own window back up. Shawn sighed at his phone.

"Do you want me to call her, psychic extraordinaire?"

Shawn handed over the phone and returned his attention to scratching at his arm. His voice flatter than normal, he replied, "you're a life saver, buddy."

* * *

"Dude, is this really necessary?"

Gus ripped off another long piece of duct tape. "Yes, it is." He wrapped it around the wrist of the mitten on Shawn's left hand, the right already done.

Shawn ineffectively rubbed his eye with the mitten. He pouted, and very darefully tried to lift the plastic cup before him. It fell back onto the coffee table with a minor splash. "I wonder if this is how declawed cats feel. How am I supposed to do anything?"

"Hold out your hand," Gus instructed, placing two antihistamine pills onto Shawn's open palm. "These should help with the itching _and_ knock you out so you don't need to do anything."

Shawn lifted the pills to his mouth, but they fell onto his lap as he tilted his hand. He looked at Gus. "This is ridiculous."

Gus couldn't disagree with that, but Shawn has scratched his arm until it started to bleed, so he couldn't think of a better plan than mitten-ing and drugging Shawn for the moment. He gave Shawn two new pills and made sure he didn't drop them this time. "Look, Shawn, I have to give a presentation at work tomorrow, so I can't be here with you."

"I don't need to be _babysat_ ," Shawn sneered. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, buddy, I'm being a jerk."

"Don't worry about it."

"Do you want-" Shawn stopped to cough into the mittens. "Ugh." He paused to regather his thoughts. "Do you want to play video games? With me at a disadvantage, you might finally win."

Gus stood up to retrieve the controllers. "Oh, this is gonna be like taking candy from a baby."

* * *

 **A/N: Good news! The next chapter will be up within a few days, and I think you guys are going to like it. Instead of Gus, we're going to have Juliet and Lassiter check in on Shawn for a change. We're also going to have a flashback to little Shawn, and possibly a visit from Henry depending on where I cut it off. Please review if you're enjoying or have any requests for the direction of this story (I think next chapter is going to be a tad bit angstier [aka fairly sicker], but I'm open to hearing where you guys want the tone to go). Thank you guys for sticking with me, and check back soon for chapter 7! Thanks, guys!**


	7. Tom Sawyer

Juliet and Lassiter had just started inspecting a new crime scene they'd been called Juliet's phone buzzed. It was Shawn. Lassiter, Buzz, and the homeowner all turned to look at her. "Is Spencer bored again?" Lassiter quipped.

"I'm so sorry," she said, declining the call. "Um, please, go on."

The homeowner continued describing how she'd discovered her roommate's body when she returned from her mother's house that morning. She cried as she spoke, which made Juliet feel even worse when he phone rang again. Once again, it was Shawn.

Juliet sighed as Lassiter raised his eyebrow at her. "I'm sorry," she said once more to the homeowner. "It's my- Shawn is sick, so it could be an emergency. Just give me one moment." She headed to the small kitchen, which was free of other detectives, before answering. "Hey, is everything okay?"

He cleared his throat before he answered, but he still sounded hoarse. "Are you at work right now, Jules?"

"Yeah. Do you need something? You don't sound good."

"I've been better. I mean...I mean-"

"What is it?"

"Gus has some big presentation at work, and I can't get ahold of Dad-"

He still hadn't said what the problem was, and it was making her nervous. "Shawn...?"

"It's nothing major. I just don't think I should... You know what, you're at work, I'll just-"

"Shawn, it's okay. Lassiter and I are at a crime scene right now, but it's pretty close to your apartment. We can swing by when we're done."

"Thanks." Through the phone, she could hear him coughing harshly. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

She said goodbye to him and walked back to the livingroom. The homeowner had wandered off, but Lassiter and Buzz were where she left them, talking to each other. "O'Hara," Lassiter said as she approached, "everything alright?"

"Actually," she said, "we need to make a pit stop on the way back to the station."

* * *

When Shawn Spencer was nine years old his father caught him trying to play hooky. Instead of getting up when his alarm went off, he waited in bed until his dad came to see what the hold up was.

"Why aren't you up? You're going to be late for school."

The young boy put on his best pained expression. "I can't go to school. I feel sick."

"Really?" Henry asked. "You don't look sick."

"Well, I _feel_ sick. My stomach hurts, and my head."

Henry narrowed his eyes. "This doesn't have anything to do with your big project you haven't worked-"

"No! How did you know about that?"

"Get dressed, kid."

"Dad," Shawn whined.

Henry looked at his young son in thought. "I'll tell you what. School policy is you have to stay home if you have a fever or throw up. I'm going to get a thermometer."

"Okay, no problem. I...I think I have a fever."

"Well, we'll see soon enough." Still confident that he'd be sending his son off to school, Henry fetched a thermometer and brought it to Shawn's room. "Go on."

Shawn looked quickly at his dad, then down as he put the thermometer in his mouth. He mumbled, "can I have some juice? My throat hurts."

"Sure," Henry agreed, suspicious. He loudly walked away from the bedroom, waited a few seconds, and then quietly creeped back. Just as expected, Shawn was holding the thermometer to a lightbulb. From the doorway, Henry cleared his throat.

"Dad! Uh..."

"Get dressed. Now. We're leaving in ten minutes."

* * *

Forty minutes later, Juliet and Lassiter arrived at Shawn's apartment. She knocked to be polite, but when there was no answer, she remembered Shawn said he'd leave it open, and went in. "Hello?" She peered into the kitchen, which was empty. Then, following the sound of coughing, she ducked into his livingroom. There was Shawn, laying down on the sofa, bundled up in multiple blankets.

"Oh good," he said, "you brought Lassie."

Still standing in the hall, Lassiter said, "we were on our way back to the station."

Juliet looked at her partner. "But it's no trouble. Right?"

"Right," Lassiter said flatly.

Shawn pushed himself upright, swaying as he sat. "Whoa." He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I took a lot of DayQuil. Maybe it was NyQuil." He looked at Lassiter, saying, "point is, I've had a lot of 'Quil."

Juliet sat in an empty armchair. "So, what's going on?"

"Oh, I'm okay," Shawn said, sounding far away and dreamy. "For a minute there I thought I was having a heart attack-"

"You _what_?" Juliet interrupted.

"-Because my chest hurt pretty bad, and I couldn't really breathe, but then I realized that was just from coughing." He flashed a lopsided smile. "No biggie."

"You didn't have a cough last time I saw you."

"I know. Gus leaves for one day and I fall apart."

"O'Hara," Detective Lassiter said, "a word?"

* * *

Henry got in his car knowing two things: his young son was absolutely going to be late for school by the time they finally left the house, but he absolutely was going to school. Once they were on the road, he started lecturing Shawn about the importance of honesty. "Lies spiral, Shawn. In the long run, it's much easier to be up front with people." He looked at the boy through the car mirror. "Not to mention, it's the right thing to do. You know that."

"Mmhmm," Shawn said quietly.

"People usually find out the truth one way or another. You should have been honest and said you hadn't done your part of the project instead of pretending to be sick. Or better yet, you should have done your half instead of letting Gus down."

"I know."

Henry continued to lecture Shawn, who continued to stay quiet, although he kept squirming in his seat. Henry figured the boy felt guilty, which was only appropriate.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, they saw all of the kids setting up their science fair projects outside, and Shawn said, "I really don't feel so good."

"Nice try, kid. Haven't you ever heard that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results?"

Gus noticed their car, and started to walk towards them as Henry parked in front of the school.

Shawn said, "no, I mean it."

Now Henry was starting to really get annoyed. It was time for Shawn to stop making excuses and face the music. "Shawn, come on."

Shawn took a deep breath, then picked up his backpack and got out of the car. He made it halfway to the science fair before leaning over and vomiting into the school lawn. Gus ran away immediately, and Henry, almost as fast, got out of the car and rushed to his son's side. The other kids were reacting in delighted disgust, and Shawn's teacher was making her way over, too. "Shawn," Henry said, "are you okay?" He wondered why Shawn would bother tampering with the thermometer if he was really sick. And, he really _had_ been trying to get out of a school assignment this morning. Something wasn't adding up.

"I'm..." Shawn's face paled another two shades, and he dropped to his knees before throwing up again. Once he caught his breath, he murmered to himself, "I thought I'd only throw up once."

"What?" Henry asked, as the teacher gently placed a hand on Shawn's arm in concern. Then, it clicked. "Shawn, did you take something?"

The guilty look on Shawn's green-tinted face betrayed him.

* * *

Juliet followed Lassiter into the hallway, sure that she knew what her partner was going to say.

"I'll admit, Spencer is...not wasting our time, but we can't stay here all day." _There it was._ "We can't even stay here all lunch break. I have risotto at the station."

"And somebody brought cake for Martha's birthday." Juliet frowned. "But I don't feel right leaving him alone."

"So call Guster."

Through the wall, she could hear Shawn having a coughing fit. "I will," Juliet said, then called to Shawn, "are you okay?"

No answer.

Lassiter and Juliet returned to the livingroom. "Shawn?"

Shawn opened his mouth, but no real sound came out. He frowned and, in vain, tried again to recover his voice.

Pleased with this turn of events, Lassiter said, "I could get used to a silent Spencer."

Frowning, Shawn mimed plunging a dagger into his heart.

Juliet said, "we can't stay very long, but I don't want to leave you by yourself. Should I call Gus?"

Shawn shook his head. He picked up the pen and notepad from the coffee table in front of him and, beside a series of scribbled numbers, wrote _"work."_

"Oh shoot, that's right. You said he has a big presentation. Hmm." She turned to Lassiter, unsure of how to proceed.

Shawn wrote again, then ripped the page out and handed it to Juliet. _"Probably boring,"_ it read. She took the opportunity to look closer at the numbers, which turned out to be a series of times of day and temperatures in varying handwriting. On the back of the page was an impressive drawing of a pterodactyl flying over a vocano. On a new page, Shawn wrote a note to Lassiter, who rolled his eyes as he read it, then crumpled it up in his fist and put it on the table.

"What does it say?" Juliet asked.

"Nothing important." He glowered at the smirking psychic, then turned to Juliet. "Are you sure we can't leave him?"

 _"Yes."_ Juliet had Shawn dial his dad's number, and, luckily, she was able to get ahold of him. She walked into the kitchen to talk to him privately, leaving Shawn and Lassiter alone together.

"I heard that hack Sweetwater tried to contact you," Lassiter said. "Even when you're gone, I'm still dealing with so-called psychics."

Shawn coughed again, then drank some water and cleared his throat. "Testing, one two-" his voice, although quiet and terribly hoarse, had returned. "Yikes."

"So much for peace and quiet," Lassiter said.

* * *

Gus had had an amazing day at work. His presentation went well, and that was a relief. His boss told him how impressed she was. He left the pharmaceutical office feeling confident, and decided to reward himself with a cup of coffee from the new place down the block. His confidence paid off, as he ended up getting in a long conversation with a woman who accidentally grabbed his drink instead of her own, and as the cherry on top of his already great day, she asked him out. Gus could not wait to tell Shawn.

He hadn't gotten so much of a text from his best friend the entire day, and he wasn't picking up his phone now. Gus figured he was asleep again, but decided to drop by Shawn's place to check on him (and to gloat about his date). However, when he got the apartment, his plans were dashed. Shawn didn't answer the door, but it was unlocked, so Gus let himself in.

"Hello?"

He wandered from room to room. He checked the bedroom last and was surprised to find the door open and lights on, but no Shawn.

He was suddenly reminded of the time he was assigned to watch the class hamster for the weekend and the hamster escaped. He found it dead behind his closet days later. It had scarred him for life. So, he checked in the apartment closets just to be safe. Still no sign of Shawn. Gus could feel his stomach knotting with dread.

Where did Shawn go?

* * *

 **A/N: Hola! I hope I didn't lose too many of you with that hiatus between chapters 5 and 6. Let me know if you're still reading! Of course, I'll finish this story no matter what, but I have a few writing projects and I'm trying to prioritize them, so if it's just me this will be a little lower on the list. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm enjoying being back to writing it. Next chapter we'll fill in the gaps between the detectives' visit and when Gus arrived, to uncover the mystery of where Shawn is. And of what little Shawn did.**

 **Comments are highly appreciated! Thank you for reading, and have an awesome week.**


	8. In Bloom

**A/N: Thank you to citylily and whaaaaaaat for your reviews on the previous chapter!**

* * *

Resigned to stay put at the apartment until Henry Spencer arrived to take their place, the two detectives took a seat and looked over some case files. Shawn looked when Juliet pulled out the crime scene photos from his would-be case. In one photo, there was a bowl of tomato soup on the kitchen table - the victim's last meal. There was also what looked like a pet bowl on the counter. In another photo, there was a small orange stain on the carpet of the bedroom. Shawn wished he had a few more pieces of the puzzle. Maybe his dad and Gus were right and he was just trying to see a murder where there wasn't one because he was bored. On the other hand, Shawn knew that his hunches were usually right, or at least in the neighborhood of right.

He waited until Juliet had flipped to a different case before stating "I'm having a vision." In his signature move, he lifted his hand to his head.

"What about?" Juliet asked.

"The psychic case. Something about a cat." Shawn let his hand drift to start scratching his face.

Juliet said, "there was no cat at the victim's house."

"Don't listen to him," said Lassiter, "he's delirious."

Shawn said, "delirious like a fox."

Juliet smiled at him. "Don't worry about the investigations, Shawn. Just focus on recovering."

If anyone else had said that to him (and they had), he would have rolled his eyes. But, it was Jules, so he smiled back and told her that she was right. So, he sank back into the couch and alternated between trying not to listen to Jules and Lassie, and trying very hard to listen to them. He found that he wasn't successful at whichever he attempted in the moment. On one hand, he'd never before noticed how fascinating the wallpaper was. On the other hand, they were loud enough that they were interrupting his wallpaper-staring. But back to the first hand, _man_ , that wall...

"Shawn? ...Shawn? _Shawn?_ "

"Spencer!" Lassiter snapped his fingers in front of Shawn, finally snapping him out of whatever trance he must have fallen into.

Shawn forced himself to focus on Lassie, whose face wrinkled slightly as he frowned. "Is your face melting," he asked him.

Lassiter turned to Juliet. "I told you he's delirious."

"Delirious from fever or high on cold medicine," Juliet whispered back.

"Because," Shawn continued, "I feel like I'm melting."

Lassiter paused to stare at the psychic. "Maybe both," he said to Juliet.

Suddenly, Shawn pushed himself forward. "Sorry. I need to focus." He scanned the room and, satisfied that there was nothing important, fell back into the couch. "Okay, focusing done for now." He tilted over, laying on the sofa now. He mumbled, "wake me up if I need to focus again."

"Luckily," said Lassiter, "he won't be our problem for much longer. Where's his father?"

* * *

"What did you take?"

The nine year old looked at his father pleadingly. "Don't get mad."

 _"What did you take?"_ Henry glared at him.

"Ipecac. I found it in the medicine cabinet."

Shawn's fourth grade teacher stood up. "I'll call poison control," she said as she rushed inside.

"What were you thinking?" Henry asked.

Shawn said "sorry," avoiding the question. It didn't matter. They both knew whatever excuse he had wouldn't appease Henry.

Gus approached them slowly, holding his hands in front of his eyes. "Are you okay, Shawn?"

Shawn nodded, but his face said otherwise.

* * *

Soon enough, Henry Spencer arrived to relieve the detectives of their babysitting duties.

Lassiter quickly gathered his things, eager for an escape. "Lay off the NyQuil, Spencer," he said in lieu of a goodbye. In response, Shawn shot finger guns at him.

"I'll call you after work," Juliet said. "Bye!"

"Bye, Jules."

Henry thanked them and showed them to the door. "I gotta tell you, Shawn," Henry said, hands on hips, "I was talking to my new neighbor when Juliet called. I told him I had to go because my son has chickenpox. I felt like an idiot when I had to explain that my son is a grown man and not a second grader."

"Yeah, that's a real bummer," Shawn said, before leaning forward to cough intensely. "Gross," he said, looking at the puddle of snot he'd coughed up into his hand. He grabbed a tissue from the coffee table to wipe it off with. "I'm glad you're here, Dad." That made Henry do a double take. _This must be serious._ "I wasn't expecting Jules to bring Lassiter." He coughed into the tissue.

Henry said, "how long have you had that cough?"

"Oh, thank you for noticing. It's new, do you like it?" _Ah, there was the Shawn he knew._

"No, I don't actually. Juliet says you've gotten worse."

"If Gus were here, he would have made me call a doctor already."

"He would be right."

"Yeah, I know," Shawn rasped. He staggered to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper, which he handed to his father.

"Why are you showing me a drawing of a dinosaur?"

"Other side."

Henry flipped over the page and saw the list of numbers. Gus had been the one to insist they start keeping track of Shawn's fever. The last time he'd been over, the highest it climbed to was one hundred and three. Since then, it had been much lower, returning on and off, but never going over one hundred and one. Until the bottom of the page. Apparently, early this morning it had spiked again. The numbers in the list continued to climb higher, until the numbers stopped, "dayquil" written in place of a time or temperature. Then, they resumed, climbing over one hundred and three before finally started to go down again. "It looks like the DayQuil helped, then," Henry surmised.

Shawn nodded and coughed weakly into his elbow. "Jules and Lassie think I'm high, but at least my fever isn't." He smiled at Henry, the smile dopey and his eyes glassy.

Henry sighed. "Are you capable of calling your doctor and having a coherent conversation?"

There was a pause, while Shawn started at him blankly. "Yes," he said after a moment, "absolutely."

Although skeptical, Henry handed him the phone. Dutifully, Shawn called up his doctor and explained how things had been going since last they saw each other. Henry listened to Shawn's side of the conversation, trying to glean what he could. "Yup, it went down with medicine. Uh..." Shawn, coughing, glanced at the page with the dinosaur doodle. "Twice. ...Uh huh. Since yesterday. Yup." Shawn nodded as he listened to the other line. "No problemo, Doc. Thanks." He hung up the phone.

 _Well_ , Henry thought, _he sounds upbeat enough_. "What did the doctor say?"

Shawn met his gaze. "I need to go to the hospital."

Henry didn't know what to say, so he just stared at Shawn until he got tired of being stared at and got up in search of shoes. He came back from his room in a fresh pair of clothes, with shoes in hand. While he sat to tie them, a hundred thoughts went through Henry's head. "So, your doctor's worried?"

Shawn finished with the shoes and stood. "Apparently chicken pox shouldn't cause a cough." He shrugged.

"Alright, let's go then."

"Dibs on shot gun."

Henry rolled his eyes and walked to the front door. In the parking lot, Shawn looked around happily. His dad asked, "what's that smile for?"

"My cabin fever was worse than my real fever. I missed the outside." He touched a bush next to the side walk. "I missed you, bush!" Next, he pointed at a tree across the parking lot. "And I missed that tree." A woman walked passed them while Henry unlocked the car, looking at Shawn oddly and increasing her distance between them when he scratched his exposed arms. "And I missed you too, Mrs. Phillips!"

"Shawn, come on."

In the car, Henry turned on the radio, and that seemed to appease Shawn, who was uncharacteristically quiet for most of the ride. At first, it seemed like he was enjoying the music, but then his expression darkened. Henry glanced at him every so often, wanting to keep tabs on how he was doing. It was hard not to worry about him, afterall, when he was driving him to a hospital. The most he said was "hey, my high school cover band did this song, remember?" when he stumbled across Nirvana's _In Bloom_ on the radio.

They were about five minutes away from the hospital when he finally spoke again. "Dad?"

"What?"

The only response he got was the sound of Shawn vomiting. _Oh._ That's _what._ "Damn it."

Beside him, Shawn breathed heavily, eventually saying in dismay, "I just bought these shoes."

"I just had my car washed."

"Sorry." Shawn leaned his head against the window.

"That's okay, kid. It's not your fault. Not like that time you took Ipecac."

"I was nine, let it go."

Henry rolled down the windows for fresh air, and they resumed their silence until they reached the hospital.

Once there, Shawn took a seat in the waiting room while his dad went up to talk to the front desk. The man nearest to Shawn stood up to move away from him. In the row of chairs across from him sat a mother and her little girl, whose face was also covered in red spots. She stared at Shawn, so he said "hey, we match!" The girl hid her face in her mother's sleeve, and the mom looked Shawn up and down. Luckily, Shawn had never been the type to mind being stared at. Even luckier, he hardly had to wait at all before being called back.

* * *

Now sure that his best friend was not in his own apartment, Gus dialed Shawn. He could hear a faint ringing from the bedroom, that familar ringtone of Shawn's. So he'd left his phone. Great. He debated between calling Juliet or Henry Spencer next, settling on Henry. If he didn't know where his son was, then a call to Juliet could double as a missing person report. Henry picked up on the third ring. Without missing a beat, Gus asked, "have you seen Shawn?"

He could hear Henry sigh. "He's right here. Hold on."

There was a brief pause, and then Shawn's voice, raspier than last he'd heard it. "Hey, buddy. Where are you? And can you bring me shoes?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"Why, what happened to your shoes?"

"Nothing. Where are you? At your dad's house?"

"No, I'm at the hospital."

"What?"

"I'm fine."

"Fine like that time you crashed your motorcycle, or fine like-"

" _Fine_ fine. So where are you?"

"I'm at your place." Gus pulled out the keys to the Blueberry. "But I'm about to be at that hospital."

"Awesome, so about those shoes...?"

Gus shook his head and pulled a pair sitting by the front door. "I'll bring them."

"Thanks, Gus. What would I do without you?"

Gus turned off the lights to the apartment and headed out. "End up in the hospital, apparently."

"I told you, it's fiiiiiiiiine." His whining insistence would have been more compelling if not preceded by coughing.

"Mmhmm," Gus said, incredulously. "We'll see about that."

* * *

 **A/N: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't worry, he won't get any worse after this chapter. I'm not trying to make this fic too serious, afterall. Anyways, next chapter we'll fill in some more gaps between arriving at the hospital and Gus's call, and see Gus and Juliet visiting. Probably Lassie to, because it's always fun to drag him where he doesn't want to be.**

 **Until next time, friends!**


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